Fight Like a Girl
by The-Song-Project
Summary: Another Cerberus experiment has got loose and started killing their guys. Surprising no one. Although, this one has amassed an all female crew out for blood during the Reaper War. Follow Jaime Song and her crew through the events that led them to that point. Mainly female/female, some canon characters will show up, but not paired with OCs.
1. My Voice is My Weapon of Choice

_Subject Song seems to have quite a knack for tech. She managed to create the amp we've implanted in her from practically nothing and what's more, it responds to her music. With luck, this will have the desired effect. Imagine, if you will, controlling an army the way a Rachni Queen might have before their extinction. I am requisitioning more funding from The Illusive Man today, with luck, he will agree._

"I am so very proud of you, Song Bird." The gangly middle aged scientist offered a slightly unnerving smile as the small blonde girl who sat at the tool bench before her.

Jaime wrinkled her nose, he was all around unsettling to her with his shabby graying dishwater colored hair and dull brown eyes behind those out of style glasses. His lab coat was always askew and Jaime knew too well the frumpy nature of his clothes served a purpose. She didn't respond to him at once, and wouldn't have at all had he not gripped her shoulder too tightly and given her a reproachful look.

"Now, now, Song Bird, don't forget your manners!" He chuckled, but there was danger behind his eyes, the fluorescent lights obscured his eyes behind the glare of his glasses.

"Thank ya, Dr. 'iggins…" Jaime managed a monotone response, head lowered, messy blonde curls hanging in her face as she gripped her bruised arm. "I don't s'pose I might attend class with th othah kids?" Her voice was heavily drenched in cockney and her pale complexion and freckles lent themselves just as much to a British heritage back on earth.

"No, Song Bird, you're better than them, do you really want to tarnish yourself by spending time with such common children?" Higgins' grip tightened.

"It wouldn't tarnish me more than bein' around ya, sir." Jaime's eyes flashed with anger for a moment, Higgins ignored it and petted her hair.

"It hurts me when you say those things, Song Bird, aren't we a team? Aren't we bettering humanity together?" Higgins cooed as he slid his hand down to grip Jaime's upper arm.

"I….I'm sorry, sir, maybe I could walk through the halls, though? Even just behind the curtain, I'd like it." Jaime felt her stomach reel, but she placed a hand on Higgins' hand despite herself, knowing it would open him to the idea of allowing her out if she were affectionate.

"Of course, little Song Bird, I forget how fragile you are sometimes; you need a bit of air."

The halls were hardly fresh air, all flooded with fluorescent light, green tile, white walls, more like a clinic than a school, but Jaime supposed the other kids must not notice, after all, they had friends, and lives, and classes. Jaime had singing lessons, time to tinker with her amp designs, and those horrible nights with Higgins.

Jaime tensed at the thought of it, her amp flaring up as, responding to her thoughts, music filtered into her ears _'If he would just die, then I might be happy, mother...'_ As that thought, as that song echoed in her mind, Jaime twitched and stumbled, the words jumbled _'To your knees your daily passion, you..don't...feel anything...' 'You couldn't raise a knife across him' 'Would it ease this life a little to see him buried..' _Her eyes widened with a violet biotic glow _'You're a pretty girl, honey...'_ Jaime, without thinking, ripped away the curtain they made her walk behind, trying to hold herself up.

As Higgins turned with a gasp and rushed to hide his little prodigy, it was too late. Jaime was face to face with a boy around her age. A pale, very thin young man with silvery blonde hair and crystal-blue eyes, dressed in the white, gold, and black jacket and black slacks with the Cerberus emblem that was the school uniform. He blushed, Jaime blushed, their eyes met and not a word was spoken, until Jaime tensed with the click of her amp switching the music again. _'I saw him once...then he was gone...'_, the song told her as Higgins roughly grabbed Jaime's arm and yanked her away.

Higgins kept a death grip on Jaime until they returned to her room where he tossed her to the ground roughly, glaring daggers at her. "What did I tell you, Songbird? They will only tarnish you. I have to erase him from your mind."

"Are you daft? You 'aven't got that sorta tech!" Jaime spat, feeling her amp flaring again with anger.

"You're mad at me, pet? After all I've done for you?" Higgins approached menacingly, removing his belt. "I may not have that sort of tech, but I can certainly take your mind off him, I'm the one you love, Songbird." He murmured and he was upon her.

Jaime didn't scream. She was beyond that. Silent tears welled in her eyes _'Don't let them scare you...when you're down on the floor bleeding, bastard! You'll be getting home real soon...and I'll pray for you..' _Jaime closed her eyes tightly but instead of dimming, her amp only flared brighter, she didn't feel weaker...She felt stronger. The syringe! Higgins hadn't bothered with the injection to dampen her biotics today. "It's too late to find a bettah way outta this..." Jaime managed aloud along with the music that rang in her ears as she wrenched her arms free of Higgins' hands and gave a powerful biotically charged shove, throwing him back against the metal door.

Higgins was stunned and Jaime was glowing with biotic energy as she approached him slowly and carefully. It played out in her head so like what she imagined when she listened to those old twenty-first century songs through the amp she'd designed. _'La-aadies and broken gen-tle-men...the undisputed champ...of misery-e-e-e'_ Jaime stopped a moment to imagine herself as a punishing spirit or a galactic messiah...and that was when the door burst open and she was restrained, the injection was quick and its effects sudden. Jaime slumped to the floor in a heap as Higgins shooed the orderlies out, shutting and locking the door again.

"You've been quite naughty, little Songbird...Now we've got to start over..." He frowned.


	2. No One's Coming to Take Me Home

The Flotilla had been Telena'Vela's home as long as she'd been alive. And she'd been Telena'Vela Nar Carterhaugh since her mother had transferred to the combination labship-liveship when Telena had been only five years old after her father's death from a somewhat suspicious suit rupture and subsequent rapidly worsening infection. Telena knew nothing of the galaxy outside of the Flotilla; she'd never been to a city or felt the soft impression of mud beneath her boots. Now here she was on the Citadel, the cultural center of the galaxy.

Telena had dreamed of this moment since her childhood. She wanted so badly to come here and improve the galaxy's opinion of her people. Her ideas of what she would do on her pilgrimage had been grand indeed. She'd imagined helping those who were sick, those who were suffering, perhaps through her sheer good nature getting the council to finally reopen the Quarian embassy. She wasn't expecting things to happen how they actually did.

Telena first approached customs at C-Sec HQ to register that she would be staying here on her pilgrimage. The Turian at the desk just glared at her and mumbled something about another vagrant suitrat. Telena's smile faltered a bit behind her visor, but she tried her best to keep her attitude positive, paying the registration fee without complaint.

"You'll find accommodations suited to your…financial situation….down in the lower wards…" The officer sneered before shooing her away.

"Th…Thank you, sir!" Telena replied with a polite nod of her head before hurrying in the direction she'd been pointed in.

After an hour of wandering through the lower wards, Telena was getting hungry. Hoping she could find a place to eat, she fumbled in her pouches for her credit chit. Pouch after pouch, pocket after pocket, she couldn't find it! And then she realized…The pouch she had placed it in was broken; someone must have broken it open and stolen the credit chit.

"Oh Keelah…." Telena slumped down against a wall and buried her visor in her hands, knees to her chest.

She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there crying before a deep, husky male voice sounded from in front of her. "Having a bad day, kid?"

She looked up to see a Batarian in blue and white armor looking down at her with what she read as an expression of pity. She nodded. "My credit chit was stolen, I'm alone on my pilgrimage and no one's really been very nice to me so far."

"Oh? Well that's too bad…But I'll be nice to you, sweetheart." He smirked, licking his lips slightly as he eyed Telena's curves hugged so tightly by her sleek black envirosuit. "And I'm sure my friends will too, why don't you come stay with us?" He extended a hand to her.

Telena finally looked up, having not seen his previous reaction to her. She smiled so brightly it almost gave the illusion of her purple visor glowing brighter as she took his hand. Finally someone was being nice to her. "Thank you so much, sir. Keelah se'lai." She inclined her head politely.

"Yeah, Keelah se'lai….good girl." The Batarian rolled his eyes as he helped Telena up, leading her towards a lower, more out of the way area of the wards to a run-down building with fading posters of attractive human, Turian, Asari, and Drell girls plastered on the outer walls. In the alleyway beside the building, a Turian, a human, and a couple more Batarians waited, talking, smoking, leaning against the walls.

"Are these your friends?" Telena asked with a gentle, nervous smile, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt when this person had offered to help her.

"Yeah, now come on, I bet they can't wait to meet you." The Batarian smirked, leading Telena towards the group. "Hey guys, I brought another girl. I don't think anyone else's place has a Quarian."

"Mm…Where'd you find her?" The Turian grinned, approaching and running a hand over the side of Telena's helmet, taloned fingers brushing her purple and pale gold hood.

Telena shuddered a bit, shuffling backwards to hide behind the Batarian. She didn't like the way his friends were looking at her. She felt like she may have made a terrible mistake. But the Batarian held her wrist, not allowing her to leave.

"I never got your name, sweetheart." He smirked.

"T…Telena'Vela Nar Carterhaugh…."Telena stammered, squirming in his grasp.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Ragekk Garvan and this is my branch of the Blue Suns. We own this establishment and if you want to be able to eat, fix any suit ruptures, and have access to medicine without a credit chit on this little pilgrimage of yours, we own you too now." He sneered, wrenching the Quarian forward and shoving her into his group of friends.

Telena closed her eyes; tears staining her face, terrified what they were doing would kill her. Through the entire ordeal, Telena stayed silent except for small sounds of pain, she knew begging would do her no good and she knew with her suit torn in so many places and the feeling of infection already sweeping over her, no matter what they'd done to her these men were her only access to omnigel and antibiotics she desperately needed now.

She lost consciousness halfway through and when she woke, she found herself alone in a sterilized room, her suit repaired and the fuzzy tingling of medigel and antibiotics coursing through her veins. None of that was near as disturbing as the strange feelings and the pain in her lower body, though. A feeling of hopelessness hung heavy over the young Quarian as she hugged her knees to her chest alone on the sterile white sheets of the bed in her new home and when the door opened to reveal a Krogan bouncer escorting a discreetly dressed human male, Telena knew exactly what her life had become after just one mistake. She was sure she'd die here, a cautionary tale for young Quarian girls about the dangers of strange men and walking alone in bad neighborhoods.


	3. Take the Pill

"Your biotic abilities are impressive, Pallas. Keep it up and you'll go far in this cabal." General Ordo clapped his star recruit on the back.

Tyene Pallas beamed up at the general, the blue markings of her home town freshly reapplied to her carapace for her promotion today. Her twin, Leto, couldn't be here because of his work with C-Sec, but her mother, her father, and her girlfriend were all present to watch the new honor be pinned to her dress uniform.

"This is a tremendous honor, sir…I owe it all to the support I have at home, though…Ah…if I can use this moment in the spotlight to make a request of our Quarian emissary….Miss Jana'Bree Vas Tonbay, with this honor and promotion, I think I can provide you the life you deserve. Will you stay here on Palaven? With me?" Tyene looked at the red hooded Quarian sitting beside her parents and other family members in the front row of seats.

"Yes, Tyene….I….I will have to get leave from the Patrol Fleet to live here, but yes." It was the first time that strong, authorative voice cracked a bit and with that, Tyene was sure Jana'Bree truly loved her.

But in that same moment, doubt seized Tyene like a vice. What if she COULDN'T provide for Jana'Bree with this promotion? What if Jana's suit ruptured or she got sick? What if she couldn't afford to have Jana's food filtered properly? Did Quarian women at least switch their hoods sometimes? Jana should have nicer hoods for military balls and such if so… Tyene realized she would need to go further than this if she expected to properly care for her future wife.

As she spent the next day observing the raw recruits from each year of mandatory training, Tyene frowned, causing a young girl to panic and blast the wall behind the dummy she'd been aiming for, leaving a scorch mark. Tyene hadn't left scorch marks when she'd been through her first year of biotic training. Her attacks fizzled out against walls. She needed an edge or it could be that very girl getting promoted beyond her in a few years. She'd be kept back like Nyreen Kandros before her. Every cabalist knew about Nyreen. Leaving in a cloud of shame because she refused to stay in the position the hierarchy demanded of her behind the lines. In Tyene's mind, Nyreen's biotics hadn't even been good enough to cut it there…But what if Tyene fell into that same trap? She couldn't.

"I need an edge." She told her brother over the link that night as she discussed her engagement with him.

"Look, Ty, you're a damn good biotic and an even better sniper. Why worry about it? It's not worth it to end up like those junkies snorting sand in back alley ways. Trust me." Leto replied cautioningly.

"Red Sand? Does it really boost biotic abilities like they say?" Tyene's curiosity was piqued.

"I'm not sure, I don't use it myself and I mostly deal with domestic disturbances and petty theft, not the drug stuff, though with Vakarian's rather loose interpretation of the law, I'd say there'll be an opening in that department soon enough." Leto sighed. "Look, Tyene, I know you and I know what you're thinking. DON'T. Now I have to go, apparently another disturbance in the Wards. I love you, and tell that to mom and dad as well." Leto hung up.

Tyene closed the channel and leaned back, thinking about the possibilities. Everyone always said there was group of Blue Suns mercs who dealt Sand down in the bad part of town and Jana'Bree wouldn't be home from her diplomatic meetings for a few hours. What did she have to lose? It really sounded like a minor drug and besides, she stood to gain a higher position in her cabal if her biotics improved even just a tiny margin. It was good for Jana, it was good for the cabal, and it was good for Tyene. With these thoughts in mind, she put on a long coat and an oversized hood and hurried out the door, leaving Jana'Bree a note telling her she'd gone 'grocery shopping'. With that, Tyene was off, down the dark streets of her home town, trying to ignore the pang of guilt as she passed the cabal building, a light still on in General Ordo's office.


	4. There is No Such Thing as Justice

Life here on the Citadel was a far cry from her upbringing in The Temple of Kalahira on Kahje. Life in the all-female training facility of the temple had been prayer, meditation, lessons in physical comfort, verbal comfort, the arts, and, of course, the art of killing. Tila Kalos had lived there eighteen years and here on the Citadel only a brief eight years. She had taken a job with the Asari Consort near the embassies and saw many important clients daily. Her work as an assassin had taken a back seat ever since then, not that she minded. Tila preferred to cultivate and improve life as opposed to take it away, though there were people whose lives were a privilege they did not deserve.

To be a consort was one thing, but there were far seedier places someone with a particular need could have it filled, and could indeed have far darker needs filled. Tila had kept vigil on those places secretly during her time here and she prayed to her goddess every day for the chance to come to rid the world of their proprietors, those who preyed upon the innocent, the weak, children.

The first time Tila had noticed something was wrong with her; she'd been twenty-two years old. There had been a pain in her lower body, like a sickness. She'd sat in stunned silence while the best doctor money could buy in a presidium hospital told her she was dying. It would be a slow death and it would kill her body bit by bit, the lessened load of oxygen causing her body to shut down non-essential functions first. The very first thing Kepral's Syndrome robbed Tila of was her ability to bear children.

She wanted to be angry, at first, but her meditations and her training soothed her. She didn't need to carry a child to influence one. There were very few Drell females working on the Citadel, particularly in positions such as hers, so she was highly popular and influential to the right sort of people. A whisper in the ear of an enamored Turian diplomat that many Turian ductrats were war orphans and should be cared for by the hierarchy, planting the suggestion that a fund should be created for sick children unable to afford treatment while an Asari matriarch enjoyed her skin secretions, explaining the benefits of providing education to the underprivileged young on the Citadel while massaging the day's troubles out of a Salarian from an influential family.

Tila did more than simply influence these charities to take place, she walked among the children she considered her charges when she had a moment of free time. She brought them food, or medicine, sometimes clothing or toys, anything to ease their lives a bit. Though during one visit to the lower wards, she saw her.

Tila did not know the girl's name or her exact age, but the teenage Quarian was clearly ill. With a concerned expression, Tila approached the girl. "Child, you look unwell…Let me help you." She reached out to her.

However, to Tila's great shock, the Quarian didn't go to her. She gasped and stumbled off as fast as she could; shaking her head and muttering about the trouble she'd be in talking to strangers. Tila would need to employ her other training to help this girl, it seemed. Cloaking as she had learned in the monastery when she was no older than the girl she sought, she climbed gingerly across the catwalks between buildings, watching her.

As she watched, it became increasingly obvious to the Drell that this girl belonged to one of the men she wanted dead. Even within the suit, Tila could identify just from the way the girl walked how bruised and beaten she was on top of being sick. It made the Drell consort sick to her stomach to imagine what sort of monster would hurt such a young girl this way. In her moment of anger, she lost the target. Cursing herself for forgetting her training, Tila made her way back to the Presidium, determined to return to that area tomorrow and find the girl again. Meanwhile, it occurred to her some of her clientele may be familiar with the secrets of the lowest parts of the wards. She had much to discuss during her scheduled appointments today.


	5. The Sky Will Fall But I Don't Care

"And so as you can see, this is a weapon meant for the busy female on the go. This omnitool is sleek, stylish and comes with not just a blade but several pre-installed battle programs. The ignition fluid for your incinerate app even allows you to select your favorite color! And, as always, this is a Tysha Karst original. Designed by myself and hand assembled by our talented worker caste assembly line employees. Karst Industries, a proud supplier of Batarian State Arms: Stand Strong for Your Hegemony!" The enthusiastic Batarian socialite announced from her podium at the weapons expo her father's company was hosting today. She cleared her throat and in a cool, pleasant announcer voice added. "Karst Industries and Batarian State Arms asks that you please keep all caste restrictions in mind when purchasing. We thank you for your patronage." She tilted her four-lensed sunglasses and began to descend the podium steps, hundreds of young, enthusiastic Batarians from lower castes reaching out to her, holding out datapads for her to sign, snapping holos.

Tysha Karst had a life a girl of any species would kill for. At twenty-four years old, she was a top inventor in her father's Hegemony endorsed weapons and armor company. She was on the cover of multiple magazines throughout Batarian space, had, aside from her line of goods through her father's company, a clothing line, a toy line, and a cosmetic line, and of course owned her own luxury cruiser and several luxury sky cars. Even her Varren had a designer collar.

Tysha was currently scheduled for an extended business trip, for four years she'd be leaving Batarian space in order to check in on the various merchants galaxy-wide who sold her father's inventions. Mainly a checkup to make very sure that no one was selling to humans, or lower castes. After all, it wasn't as though there was a way to read species and caste yet just from the grip on the gun…Although what an idea! Tysha mentally jotted it down and began running through calculations in her head on how to do it.

"Miss Karst?" Her assistant's voice came from across the sky car seat, snapping Tysha out of her grandiose planning. "I'm sorry to bother you.." He blushed a bit. "It's just you have that dinner meeting with the chairman of Batarian State Arms' son tonight…you know…your date?" He seemed a bit hurt at the thought that Tysha had a date, but still he reminded her dutifully, as was expected of him.

Tysha frowned, softening a bit. "Hey, you know that's business, it's got nothing to do with you and I." She looked away blushing. "You know your caste is…."

"Lower? Only a problem in public?!" He shot back, causing Tysha to glare.

"HEY! If I had my way, we'd be married already, but I have certain responsibilities to my father and to this Hegemony. If you would put yourself or even me before our people, then maybe you don't deserve to be called Batarian!" Tysha shot back.

"Look, Tysha..I…I didn't mean…All I'm saying is…this four year business trip..Plenty of time to get lost among the stars…Who'd ever know if we just got a place on Omega and never went home?" He scooted over to her, nuzzling at her neck, playing with her braided hair, a dirty blonde-light brown shade.

"Except for every single Batarian who lived there including the licensed Karst Industries vendors that sell in their market place." Tysha rolled her eyes, clearly upset by the feeling of being completely trapped no matter where she went.

"Licensed? Tysha, Omega's market is pretty much entirely the black market. No one there is licensed." He snorted.

"Look, there are enough Batarians on Omega that may still want to return to our home system that might use outing my location as a way to gain favor with the Hegemony. Not to mention no matter what the politicians say, the pirates and slavers are Hegemony endorsed. You know Balak's practically paid to blow up human colonies. Remember Mindoir? Those guys got free demos from dad's warehouse. The Hegemony has its hands deep in a lot of Varren crap, to be completely honest." Tysha admitted. "Not that there's anything wrong with putting these smug humans in their place, just the people you think are outlaws? They're more like privateers…"

"I actually didn't realize…" He lowered his head.

"And that's just how the Hegemony wants it. Which is another big part of why I'm not supposed to be dating a civilian." Tysha replied. "But maybe I'm the one who isn't worthy to be called Batarian, then…Because I still love you…" She kissed him. "I still want you…" She slid her arms around him, curling up close. "And I am still yours." She whispered in his ear sweetly.

"Miss Tysha….The driver…" He gasped.

"The shielding is up and it's sound proof." She replied as she relaxed in his arms. "Just hold me? Maybe if I keep in mind the feeling of your arms, the static when our eyes meet, I can fake it for this so-called date of mine."

"Well, who am I to refuse a request from my boss?" Her assistant taunted, four eyes meeting four eyes as they moved in for another, deeper kiss.


End file.
